


Back to Real Life

by IneffableFangirl_writes



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Missing Scenes, between s1 and s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableFangirl_writes/pseuds/IneffableFangirl_writes
Summary: Meant to take place between the season finale of Season 1 and the first Episode of Season 2.Taken from the backlog of fic on my computer that I never got around to posting.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Kudos: 7





	Back to Real Life

A hotel room that smelled like mildew and rapidly cooling fast food is where Mulder sat. The linens appeared to be clean, though he had no desire to run a blacklight test and check on that. It was fifteen minutes after seven and she was late.

Rap rap rap raprap, RAP RAP.

He opened the door and smiled at the woman with the long dark hair and Carmen Sandiego hat.

“Shave and a haircut? Really?” He asked, not bothering to conceal how delighted he was to see her.

“You’re lucky it’s Halloween,” Scully replied, and after the door closed, she pulled off the hat, then the wig.

“What’s under the trenchcoat?”

She rolled her eyes and shrugged it off.

“Running shorts and a tee-shirt.”

“You disappoint me, Scully.”

She rolled her eyes again, this time with a hint of an affectionate smile. 

“The first time I get to see you since they shut us down and you’re asking what I’m wearing?”

Mulder shrugged and flashed her a grin that was meant to be charming. Unfortunately for him, she knew him well enough to ignore it completely. Accepting his failure in charming her as both usual and expected, he offered her a hamburger from the bag, which she accepted, unwrapping as she spoke.

“So what are you on now?”

“White collar crime case,” he made a face. “It’s all so normal. And boring. Have you ever thought about how predictable we humans are? I mean really thought about it?”

“It’s come up, but not in relation to white collar crime or x-files.”

“Paranormal occurrences, extraterrestrial activity, psychic abilities...they add variety to a fairly boring planet. With just us, it’s the same thing over and over again. Money, power, sex. Over and over.”

Scully swallowed her mouthful of burger.

“Maybe we all get to the same three motives, but the paths we use to get there are fascinating. The intricacies of human biology and psychology are amazing.”

Mulder smiled widely, that same delighted one that he used to use when he’d found a new case or something particularly ‘spooky’. 

“What?” she asked through a french fry.

“Bit of a role reversal isn’t it?”

“White collar crime’s made you dull,” she retorted.

“Me? Maybe you’ve just finally opened your mind. A guy can have a bad day.”

From under the bed, he pulled out a six pack of beer.

“Want one?”

“Fast food and beer? This is the grand reunion after escaping our watchdogs?” She sounded amused rather than annoyed and Mulder popped open a beer and handed it to her.

She told tales of her students at the academy and he traded stories of the other agents he worked with, the mundane water cooler gossip. He did not mention the frequent references to his spookiness or how Skinner shoved the worst cases to him, the ones requiring the most leg work and reaped the least credit or reward. She knew anyhow.

“How long do you think they’ll keep this up?” Scully asked. “They’ve closed the X-files, they’ve killed Deep Throat, they’ve separated us. What more reason do they have to watch us?”

“We know things, Scully. That knowledge is dangerous and until they can be sure it’s secure, we’ll be monitored.”

“That’s a little paranoid, don’t you think? Information loses relevance. It loses context.”

“Government cover-ups and conspiracies never lose relevance. We know that there’s more going on than they want us to know about. And they can’t risk us sharing that information. We’ll have to come up with a system to communicate when we want to talk. I doubt we’ll be able to both ditch our tails again.”

“It’s all very cloak and dagger,” Scully remarked, taking a sip of the beer, her food wrappers all back in the bag they came from, the bag tucked neatly under the chair.

“That’s our lives now, Scully. A game of clue.”

“I was very good at Clue.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“What does surprise you?”

She should have known better than to ask. He was off again, something about aliens and historic landmarks and mind probing, listing cases and evidence. 

“All right, enough. I’m sorry I asked. What sort of system are you thinking of?”

“My picture of Samantha, the one on my desk. Put it face down if you want to meet up with me.”

“If I’m going to be there anyway, why can’t I just come say hello? Surely people would expect me to if I was in your section of the building.”

“They won’t like us talking.”

She resisted rolling her eyes.

“Send a note down to autopsy asking for any recent John or Jane Does in the system.”

“What if I actually need you to check for John or Jane Does?”

“Add a note at the end of the request. Possibly had green eyes.”

“And if I need that?”

“Then you’ll have to come down and see me.”

Mulder shrugged, set the empty beer bottle on the nightstand. 

“We’ve got all night to sit and shoot the breeze.”

“How’s the search for truth coming?”

“I’ve got some promising leads. A few watchdog groups to help me, collecting information here and there. It’s not quite as good as the x-files but I think we’re making good progress.”

The excitement, the fire and zeal were back in his voice and she smiled.

“It’s good to hear you talk like that again.”

“Irrational alien talk with no proof to back it up?”

“Passionate.”

“The truth is something worth having passion for.”

“The truth,” Scully held up her bottle and they toasted, each taking another drink.

“Where do you think they think we are?” Scully mused, putting down the bottle.

“I lost my tail in a street fair they’re having for Halloween in DC. You?”

“Nightclub costume party. I went into the washroom with my friend and we swapped costumes. I was Cleopatra, she was Carmen Sandiego.”

“Halloween is weird. You dress up as things you’re not and act in ways you wouldn’t in the name of an evening of mystery. The next morning, the mystery goes back to the basement where they leave it the other 364 days a year. It’s like no one is themselves for the night.”

“We are not Dana Scully and Fox Mulder tonight then,” Scully announced. “I am Carmen Sandiego and you are…” she studied his outfit. “What are you supposed to be?”

“Dead sexy?”

This time she did roll her eyes.

“The fugitive.”

“I look like Harrison Ford?”

“You look like you’re on the run from the FBI.”

“Very funny.”

She shrugged, smiling.

“So what are the fugitive and Carmen Sandiego doing in a motel room on Halloween night?”

“Sounds like the beginning of an adventure story.”

Mulder lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Carmen and the fugitive are in deep cover.”

Leaning forward to hear him better, Scully nodded, playing along for the moment. Mulder scooted to one side, making space for her beside him on the bed.

“They’re investigating a conspiracy within the world governmental organizations and have stopped in a hotel to revise their plans to stop it.”

“That sounds suspiciously like what two FBI Agents called Mulder and Scully are doing...though not on so large a scale.” She moved to sit beside him.

“Shh, Carmen you’re ruining my narration.”

“All right, sorry. What are their plans changing to?”

“They’ve been compromised and they need to hide out and reconstruct cover identities. This is the last night that they’ll see each other before going their separate ways.”

“A little over dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Last night together for who knows how long, Carmen. It’s supposed to be dramatic.”

Grabbing her hand, he held it to his heart, he looked off comically into middle distance. 

“Carmen, mi amor…”

Rolling her eyes, Scully leaned over and planted a kiss on his mouth.

“Now that we’ve gotten that over with,” she began, but he was already leaning back towards her, pressing his mouth to hers, one hand cradling her cheek while the other pressed to her lower back.

“Mulder!” Scully pulled away, breathing a little more heavily than the moment before.

“Scully,” he replied, studying her face with unmasked arousal.

“I thought you were just being dramatic!”

“All those cases Scully. I’m not that good of an actor.”

“But now,” she began, and then stopped, her pale eyes scanning his face with the intensity of a laser. “You know that this is exactly the sort of complication that blows covers and ruins missions.”

“I know,” he agreed, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.

“And with all the politics surrounding the x-files and their closing, we won’t be able to just meet up anymore.”

“I know.”

“And if you’re awful at it I’m not going to have pity-sex with you.”

He chuckled lowly.

“I’m not awful at it, Scully.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Oh will you?”

In lieu of a reply, she kissed him again. 

After Halloween came Thanksgiving, where they met in a motel near the DC airport, meeting up to talk and then inevitably fuck like rabbits before he got on his plane to fly home for the holiday and she got back into her car and drove to her parents’ house. Twice a month was as often as they could afford to meet, and it couldn’t be on any sort of schedule. They were still being watched. Admittedly, Mulder was a bit turned on by the idea of their tails jealously sitting outside their chosen rendezvous point, watching their shadows move against the curtains, but he knew better than to indulge in that particular interest and instead shook off his tail dutifully. 

Their tails became more experienced and they could get less and less time. 

“We can’t risk meeting so often, Scully,” he told her while zipping up his pants.

“How will we communicate then?”

“I’ll add notes into the files for the morgue.”

She watched him fade slowly, his passion and interest dulling. She could practically see his belief slipping away with each pass in the hall, chance meeting in the FBI cafeteria, meet-up in the parking deck to exchange information and bodily fluids. If Scully admitted it to herself, she might have thought about how vastly different he was now from when they were partners. Physically he looked the same but the fire in his eyes wasn’t what it was. The same man who had enthusiastically faked an elevator malfunction so he could pin her to the doors and roll her skirt over her hips while simultaneously talking about what he’d discovered wasn’t this man.Somehow he was becoming less...though less what she couldn’t tell. He seemed to be losing substance. 

In the parking lot of the Watergate hotel, under cover of night, she scheduled a meeting and watched the words fall from his lips. Doubts, he said, mentioning Deep Throat’s death and his own confusion.  _ What’s happening to you? _ she wondered. They went their separate ways, as always. She returned to her empty apartment, as always. She thought about him, about herself, about the X-files, about everything.

And when she next sought him out, found him gone without a trace.

**_For the resolution, watch Season 2, Episode 1 “Little Green Men”_ **


End file.
